Bloodlust
by disorganized-chaos
Summary: AU of Supernatural season 2 episode 3. Instead of hunting vampires, Gordon hunts werewolves, and he's come to Beacon Hills to take out the local pack. Loads of Hurt!Stiles just because I can. Some Sterek towards the end.
1. Chapter 1

**~Chapter One~**

**A/N: Sooo I've been working on this crossover for a while. I thought I'd post it here first instead of on my Wattpad account because my friends found that and...yeah. You know how that ends. Anyways, I should probably update this about every other day because I've got a good chunk of it done. So now that you know that, please read, review, favorite, follow, do whatever y'all want to do, and onto the disclaimer~**

**Sadly I don't own either Teen Wolf or Supernatural *cries***

* * *

Stiles Stilinski didn't know exactly _what_ he was expecting when he walked into his dad's office carrying a bag of takeout and a couple of sodas, but it certainly wasn't two gigantic, stern-looking underwear models sitting awkwardly in the uncomfortable, stiff chairs facing his father's desk. Which wasn't currently occupied by his father.

"Who're you?" The "Short, Blond, &amp; Handsome" one asked, immediately wincing as his buddy not-so-subtly dug his elbow into his side. "I meant-" he shot a glare at his larger companion "-what's a kid like you doing back here in the sheriff's office?"

Stiles grinned at the pair, hiding his uneasiness behind his usual cheeky smile. "Stiles," he introduced himself. "I'm the sheriff's son. And who are _you_?"

The two simultaneously flipped open their badges and gave Stiles a quick glance at them before shoving them back in their pockets. "FBI," the tall one, now identified as Agent Young, said.

"Hey, can I see those?" Stiles asked curiously, but a nervous tingling was stirring in his stomach. What would FBI be doing in Beacon Hills?

Agent Burgess handed him his badge. As Stiles took it from him, he felt something small and metal being pressed against his palm before it was quickly pulled back. As Burgess withdrew his arm, Stiles saw a flash of...was that silver? Were they trying to test him with silver?

Stiles filed that information away for later and instead flipped open the badge and examined it thoroughly. "Hey, cool names," he said. "Y'know, maybe you should try giving yourselves more inconspicuous aliases next time you fake FBI badges. AC/DC's a pretty popular band." He tossed the badge back onto Burgess's lap with a smug smirk. "Better not show these to my dad, by the way. They'd probably fool a kindergartner. So why are you two really here?"

The two exchanged surprised looks (totally not subtle, by the way, Stiles almost rolled his eyes at how obvious they were being), then "Young" sighed melodramatically, still keeping his act up perfectly. "Okay, you got us. We were just curious about those animal attacks that happened a few months ago. The ones that the town originally blamed on a...wolf?" The man's eyes glittered dangerously, making warning bells go off in Stiles's head. _Hunters._

"Y-you know they already found the killer? It was Kate Argent. The psychotic killer lady who murdered that whole family," Stiles lied nervously, hoping that he sounded convincing. His mind was reeling. He had to warn Scott, and Derek...the whole pack was in danger…

"Argent?" The two men shared looks of shock. Stiles was just about to berate them with more questions when his father walked in, his eyes moving from the hunters to Stiles then back to the hunters.

"Everything all right here?" He asked suspiciously.

The shorter one flashed a winning smile at him. "Oh no, everything's fine. We were just leaving." He looked back at Stiles, who was sitting there looking like the picture of innocence. "You're raising a great kid, Sheriff. See you around, Stiles?"

"Yeah, sure," the younger boy agreed nervously as the hunters walked out of the office.

Once they were gone, Sheriff Stilinski walked into the room and picked up the takeout bag, eying its contents and sighing at the sight of a salad. "Were they bothering you, Stiles?" He asked as he picked up a fork.

"No," the younger Stilinski answered, not looking up from his phone as he finished sending a text off to Scott. _Hunters in town. Tell Derek?_

"Oh, yeah, I forgot to tell you-I'll be away at a conference for a few days. Just a routine assessment, shouldn't be too much to worry about. Smith's going to be running things around here. If you need anything, you ask him, alright? I'm leaving tonight, but I should be back by Tuesday if things work out," the sheriff added, prying the salad container open.

"Okay, dad," Stiles said, looking from his phone and shooting his father a reassuring smile. "I'll be good. It's you I should be worrying about anyways. Promise you'll try to eat healthy while you're there?"

The sheriff huffed in annoyance. "Fine," he agreed reluctantly. "You call every night, alright, kiddo?" Stiles agreed, then gave him a quick hug before walking out of the office. His phone beeped as he received a text message from Scott.

_alrdy taken care of. allison's dad nows the guy. derek says be careful_

Stiles frowned at his phone, rereading the text. Scott must've gotten it wrong, there were two hunters. But maybe it was just a typo. Just as he was about to text his best friend back, something else popped up.

_btw, pack meeting sat 5 pm. my house, be there_

Today was Friday. That meant he had plenty of time to hole himself up in his house researching those two hunters. He grinned to himself and pocketed his phone as he walked out to his Jeep, passing a '67 Chevy Impala that was just pulling out. He could see the two hunters inside, clearly arguing about something. Quickly he took note of their license plate and entered his Jeep. The short drive to his house wasn't short enough. He was itching to get inside, boot up his computer and do a little research.

He grinned to himself. Soon, he would know everything about the two mysterious men.


	2. Chapter 2

**~Chapter Two~**

**Sorry I didn't update earlier! I was so busy today I didn't have the time. BTW, in the Teen Wolf universe this fic is set after the 2nd season but before the 3rd. (SPOILER ALERT) Erica &amp; Boyd weren't captured by the Alphas and Jackson's still in Beacon Hills, so the pack is just one big happy family. **

**Disclaimer: Ahh, do I have to do this every chapter? Well, still don't own Teen Wolf or Supernatural...if I did there probably would be a helluva lot more gay smut in there...**

* * *

"That kid totally knew something!" Dean insisted, flailing his arms around as if to prove his point as they stood next to the Impala. "Did you see the way he messed up when we asked about the animal attacks? He was hiding something!"

"Maybe he's one of them?" Sam suggested.

Dean shook his head. "No, I tested him. He didn't react to the silver like a werewolf would. I think maybe he's buddies with one of them."

"Do you think we should try to question him again?" Sam asked, looking slightly uneasy about the idea as he opened the car door and sat down. Dean started the car.

"Maybe we should, man. If he realizes what his friends are up to, he might help us."

"But he's also the sheriff's kid," Sam pointed out, "we might get arrested for harassing him or something."

"The Argents might know something about it," Dean agreed. "Remember that time Dad went on a hunt with them and we hung out with their kid daughter? She was really adorable. But Kate was a bitch."

"Yeah, so we'll just swing by their place, ask a few questions, nab the werewolves, and we're outta there," Sam summarized.

"But did you see those papers on the sheriff's desk? There's been a few recent killings of random people who'd ventured into town recently. Apparent cause of death: silver bullet to the heart," Dean said.

"So you're saying someone's already taking care of the werewolves?" Sam asked in confusion.

"I don't know," Dean shrugged. "Guess we'll have to ask the Argents." He revved the Impala's engine, flashed his trademark smirk at his brother, and sped down the road.

**~o)0(o~**

"It's been great to see you boys, but I don't know what you're talking about," Chris said, adopting a confused look on his face. "We haven't been killing any werewolves recently. We have a deal with the local pack."

Sam and Dean shared looks of confusion. If Chris wasn't killing the supposed "werewolves" then who was?

Suddenly Argent snapped his fingers. "It's that other hunter," he realized. "He came to Beacon Hills a few days before you did, and apparently has a helluva grudge against werewolves. His name was Gordon, or something like that? He's the only one who really knows about those omegas who were passing through besides the pack, it all adds up."

"It sounds like you've already spoken with this dude," Dean said. "D'you know where we could find him?"

Chris scrunched up his face in thought. "At the local bar, I guess. That's where I met him."

"Alright, thanks," Sam said, giving the older man a short hug and turning to leave. Dean quickly followed suit.

"It was great seeing you boys!" Chris called after them. "Just be careful out there—I may have a pact with the local werewolves but if they see you as a threat I can't do anything to stop them from attacking!"

As the two brothers left, none of them noticed the dark-haired girl sitting at the top of the steps, phone in hand. Once the door slammed shut behind the hunters, Allison darted lightly to her room, fingers tapping quickly across her phone's keyboard.

_Scott. More hunters! 2 brothers Sam &amp; Dean I met when I was a little kid. Reasonable but they will kill u if u attack! Be careful &amp; warn the rest of the pack _

Scott texted back almost immediately.

_Sure. Forgot to tell u but theres a pack meeting sat 5 pm, my house, make sure ur there. Also avoid hale house its being serchd._

A second later, her phone alerted her another text had been received.

_From: Scott_

_Wanna hang out for a bit later? ;) ;) _

She grinned to herself.

_It's a bit stuffy in here, I think I'll leave my window open for a while... ;)_

She let a brief smile cross her face before tossing her phone back onto her bed and heading downstairs.

**~o)0(o~**

Stiles hummed to himself as he opened the door to his house, tossed his keys on the counter, and kicked off his shoes. He checked his phone, saw he had a couple unread messages from Scott, Derek, and his dad, then stuffed it back in his pocket. He ran up the stairs to his room, excitement racing through him. This was his element; finally he could be useful again. He couldn't wait to start researching.

They did have a small problem, though. There was a full moon in a week, and they had no idea how long the hunters were staying. Most of the pack had their shifts under control, but they didn't want to take any risks with these hunters running around. He'd talked to Scott earlier about it, but now that they had new information plans might have to change.

He tossed his bag on his bed and walked over to his computer, spinning around once in his chair for good measure. As he waited for his computer to power up, he dug out the post-it he'd written the hunters' license plate number on. As soon as his computer turned on, he was at the keyboard, tapping away. Words and articles and police reports scrolled by as he typed different things in. God, these guys were psychos, but as much death as they left in their wake, Stiles was slowly figuring out that most of it was supernatural. They were certainly good at what they did; it looked like they'd saved more than a few lives along with the ones they'd taken.

He picked up his phone, about to call Scott with the news, when he heard a scraping sound behind him. At first he thought it was another one of the pack climbing in through the window, but when he turned to look it was still shut firmly.

"Dad?" He called out, his voice echoing throughout the empty house. "Der—"

He was cut off by a staggering pain in the back of his head, and the last thing he felt were rough hands grabbing him from behind as the floor rushed up to meet him.


	3. Chapter 3

**~Chapter Three~**

**A/N: Thank you so much for all the reviews and follows! Keep on doing whatever you're doing people because it makes me so happy, and me being happy means you get more chapters :)**

**Also I literally have no idea what Gordon's accent is, but I feel like he has one so I made him Southern. Please don't hurt me.**

**Disclaimer: Hahaha what? What're you saying I don't own Supernatural or Teen Wolf? Whaaatt?**

**And from this chapter on I will probably be incorporating lines from the SPN episode into this so yeaaah. Don't own that either. The only thing I own is the omega in this chapter. **

* * *

_~a few hours later~_

Sam and Dean entered the quiet small-town bar, glancing around suspiciously for any candidates for the hunter. They walked up to the bartender, who raised his eyes to them once before returning back to the counter he was wiping down.

"How's it going?" Dean asked, trying to act casual as he glanced around.

"Livin' the dream," the other man replied sarcastically. "What can I get for you boys?"

"Two beers please," Dean answered.

"So, we're looking for someone," Sam began.

"Sure. Hard to be lonely," the bartender replied. Sam offered him a fake smile in return. "Yeah, but, um, that's not what I meant." He slid a 20 towards the bartender, who looked down at it then back up at the 2 brothers, raising his eyebrows then snatching up the money.

"Right, so, uh this person would be in here a lot, a regular, came here about two weeks ago," Sam offered. "Real rough-and-tough, might wear a lot of plaid..."

"Sorry boys, can't help you there. You could be describing just about anyone," the man answered. "Maybe another time."

Dean narrowed his eyes at the man, then tugged on Sam's sleeve when he noticed someone staring at them from a corner. "C'mon Sammy, let's head out," he said, not bothering to pay for the beers. The man couldn't protest because technically, they'd given him the money.

They walked out of the bar and Dean leaned into his younger brother. "That dark-skinned guy in the corner smoking a cigarette? I think we've got 'im."

Sure enough, only minutes later the man followed them out of the bar and was quickly pinned against the wall.

"You're Gordon, right?" Dean demanded. "You're the one who nabbed those two omegas passing through town?"

"Easy, easy fellas," the other hunter said with a slow Southern drawl. "I'm guessing you're the Winchesters? Heard about you rolling into town from Chris. I'm assuming you've already spoken to him about the werewolf infestation?"

Dean nodded as he released Gordon. "We talked with him a few hours ago." The other man started walking towards the empty section of the parking lot, and the Winchesters followed.

"I've heard about some of your work," Gordon said as he opened the door to his car and pulled out his rack, waiting a few moments before continuing so the Winchesters could admire his collection of weapons. "Met your dad once. Helluva guy, great hunter though." At the brothers' visible stiffening, he lowered his voice and added, "I heard he passed. Sorry about that, by the way. Big shoes, but from what I've heard you guys fill 'em. Great trackers, good in a tight spot..."

"You seem to know a lot about our family," Dean cut in.

"Word travels fast. You know how hunters talk," Gordon explained, taking in the looks on their faces and quickly coming to a conclusion, just as Dean said, "No, we don't, apparently."

"I guess there's a lot your dad never told you, huh," Gordon said. There was a short awkward silence before Sam quickly changed the subject by saying, "So, those two omegas, they were you, huh?"

"Yep. Been here two weeks," Gordon said proudly.

"So, have you found the pack HQ yet?" Dean added.

Gordon chuckled lightly, pushing the rack back into the car as he avoided the question. "I've got this covered. Look, don't get me wrong, it's been a real pleasure meetin' you fellas, but I've been on this thing for over a year. I tracked those omegas all the way from Austin after taking one down around that area. They were mumbling some crazy crap about a 'true alpha', whatever that means. But anyways, the point is I started this, I can finish it."

Dean glanced at his brother before answering, "We could help."

"Thanks, but I'm kinda a 'Go-It-Alone' type of guy," Gordon tried to argue.

"Yeah man, but I've been itching for a hunt," Dean said.

"Sorry, but I heard there's a nest of vamps two states over. Knock yourselves out," Gordon answered, seemingly apologetic as he got into his car and turned the key. "It was real good meetin' you though. I'll buy you a drink on the flip side."

The two brothers watched as the other hunter rolled out of the parking lot, then Dean said, "We're not leaving Sammy."

"Agreed," his younger brother responded instantly.

**~o)0(o~**

An omega restlessly paced around the remains of the Hale house, growling to himself quietly as he walked back and forth. "They were here...they were here!" He muttered to himself, his teeth elongating as he spoke. "The alpha...the true alpha...he was here!"

The middle-aged man looked like he hadn't showered or changed in days, and it was true. Just recently his wife and sister had both been brutally murdered, destroying the last scraps of his sanity and driving him to a desperate frenzy.

A branch cracked in the woods, and the omega spun around, eyes flashing as his claws extended. Suddenly his chapped and broken lips stretched into a sadistic smile and he giggled. "Come out, come out wherever you are!" His tone suddenly changed and became low and threatening, "I smell you! I smelled you on the corpses of my family! Come out here so I can rip out your throat with my teeth!"

Gordon stepped out of the woods, holding a silver knife in one hand in a gun loaded with silver bullets in the other.

The werewolf snorted in disbelief. "Silver? You really believe that stupid legend that silver can kill a werewolf?"

"Remind me again what killed your family?" Gordon responded coolly.

The werewolf's eyes widened, and with only a second's hesitation he leapt at the hunter, claws slashing across the other man's chest.

Gordon staggered backwards, but the cuts were shallow and not life-threatening, so he raised his gun and fired at the werewolf. He nimbly dodged the bullet and ran at the hunter again, this time managing a deeper cut on his arm and making him drop his weapons.

The werewolf quickly grabbed Gordon by the front of his shirt and delivered a few hard punches to his face. The other man retaliated by slamming his fist into the werewolf's stomach. The crazed man released him and Gordon swung at him again, but the werewolf caught his fist and used his momentum to slam him onto the ground. Grinning wildly as his long greasy hair flew in different directions, the man shouted, "You shouldn't have killed my family!" As he punched the hunter. He unsheathed his claws and aimed for the hunter's throat, but fell forward onto the ground when the other man's body slipped out from beneath him. He turned to see another man helping the hunter up and supporting him as a shorter, blond one dove for the knife on the ground. He was unprepared for the attack as the hunter spun around and drove the knife into his stomach. He screamed in pain and fell to the ground, bloodstained hands clutching at the weapon embedded in his stomach.

The last thing he saw was a gun leveled at his chest, the hunter's satisfied smirk, and then there was a _bang _and everything went dark.

**~o)0(o~**

Dean glanced at his brother and then to Gordon, who was holding his injured arm but grinning. His eyes flicked back to Sam who was staring at him like he didn't even know his own brother.

"So, I guess I gotta buy you that drink," Gordon said with a smile on his face. Dean looked back at him and allowed himself to briefly forget the look on his younger brother's face.

"So I guess that means you'll be letting us help," Dean smirked.

"Sure," the other hunter replied. "I'll meet you guys back at that old bar, tomorrow at 3."

Dean nodded at him, and Gordon left. When the rumble of his car's engine faded in the distance, Sam turned to his brother and hissed, "What's there left to hunt? We've taken care of all the omegas! We should go."

"We've still got to deal with the local pack," Dean reminded him.

"Chris said he'd made a deal with them," Sam persisted. "That man's been hunting for a much longer time than we have, he knows what he's doing. There's nothing left to hunt here."

Dean turned angry green eyes on his brother. "A werewolf's a werewolf, Sammy, no matter what deals they make or contracts they sign. In order for this town to be safe, they've got to go." He yanked Gordon's silver knife out of the dead omega's body and headed back to the Impala, leaving his brother behind to stare at him in shocked silence.

* * *

**A/N: This is a fanfic so I've altered the timeline in the episode a little to fit my needs, because I am an all-powerful goddess and you should bow down to me...just kidding annnyyywayyss, silver CAN kill werewolves in this but only if it's fired at close range like Chris mentioned in one of the Teen Wolf episodes. Just wanted to clear that up. **


	4. Chapter 4

**~Chapter Four~**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or Teen Wolf. **

* * *

Stiles woke up with a groan as feeling rushed back into his body and his head was suddenly reminded of how hard it'd been hit. His arms and legs ached too, but for a completely different reason. His arms were roughly tied behind the chair he was sitting in, while his ankles were tied to the legs of the chair. The room he was sitting in was dark and smelled old and musty and—_like the forest. _

Stiles bolted up in his chair as his senses suddenly came alive. He couldn't tell how much time had passed since he been knocked out, but it obviously had to be awhile because he was buzzing with energy and his Adderall had worn off. That was when he became aware that there was another person in the room with him.

The man was relatively short and dark-skinned. He was wearing a plaid shirt and jeans. Bandages wrapped around his chest and arm made the shirt bulky in places. He was standing in the doorway holding Stiles' phone and scrolling through it, seemingly oblivious to his hostage's return to consciousness.

"Useless," the hunter muttered as he tossed Stiles' phone away from him disdainfully. Only then did he glance at his captive. When he saw Stiles' cinnamon-brown eyes staring back at him with confusion, a smirk spread across his lips.

"You're awake," he muttered to himself.

"Yeah, I noticed," Stiles snarked back.

"Shut up!" The hunter shouted angrily, his face going red as he stomped towards Stiles, who squirmed a little in his seat. Curse his lack of a brain-to-mouth filter...

"You should be saving your breath," the hunter said, seemingly calmed down as he reached Stiles' side. He drew a wickedly-sharp knife from the sheath strapped to his belt that Stiles hadn't managed to see before. The hunter twirled the knife expertly between his fingers and smirked at the suddenly nervous look on Stiles' face.

"Tell me who your alpha is," the hunter ordered.

"'Alpha'? Isn't that the first letter of the Greek alphabet or something?" Stiles asked, feigning confusion and hoping it would work.

The knife was a silver blur as it slashed down Stiles' arm and returned to lazily weaving through the hunter's fingers as he twirled it around.

Stiles gasped in pain and shouted, "Are you fucking crazy?!" At the hunter, still hoping he could play the 'innocent human' card.

"You _know _what I'm talking about," the hunter said calmly. "By the way, I guess I should introduce myself before we get into this too far. I have till 3 o'clock, but I still need answers. The name's Gordon."

"I'd introduce myself, but you seem to know me pretty well already, so what's the point?" Stiles offered Gordon a fake sweet smile. The hunter's expression visibly darkened.

"I see that you're not going to make this as easy as I wanted it to be," he sighed. Then his face darkened as it twisted into a sadistic smile. "But that's okay. I've always liked a challenge." And he brought the knife down on Stiles' arm.

**~o)0(o~**

_~a few hours later~_

The three hunters sat around a table at the bar, quietly conversing as the waitress came around to collect their payment. Dean quickly dug into his pocket for the money, but Gordon stopped him with a wave of his hand. There was a scarlet splotch on his already-dark skin, and as Sam looked closer he realized it was blood. But it didn't look like the hunter's...

"No no, I got it, I insist," Gordon said, placing a few bills on the waitress' tray with a quick, "Thank you sweetie." He raised his shot glass in the air and said, "Another one bites the dust."

Dean clinked his glass against Gordon's, saying, "That's right." They both downed their glasses while Sam looked on uneasily.

"Ahhh," Gordon exhaled indulgently. He chuckled lightly. "I gotta say Dean, you gave that big-ass omega one helluva beating, my friend."

"Thank you."

"That was beautiful. Absolutely beautiful," Gordon continued, laughing a little.

"Yep," Dean agreed, taking a sip of his drink. He glanced over at his little brother and asked, "Hey, you okay Sammy?"

"I'm fine," the younger Winchester answered curtly.

"Yeah, lighten up a little, Sammy," Gordon exclaimed, seemingly enthusiastic.

"He's the only one who gets to call me that," Sam replied coldly.

"Sorry, sorry man. No offense, I'm just celebratin' a little. A job well done, you know?"

"Right, well um, brutally murdering someone isn't exactly my idea of a good time," Sam said, tension obvious in his voice.

"Aw, c'mon man, it's not like it was human," Gordon said. "You gotta have a little more fun with the job."

Dean snapped his fingers and pointed at Gordon. "See, that's what I've been trying to tell him. You could learn a thing of two from this guy." Dean directed the last part of the sentence to Sam, then took another sip of his drink.

Sam looked at his brother and Gordon in disbelief. "Yeah, I bet I can. Look, I'm not going to try to bring you guys down, I'm just going to go back to the motel."

"You sure?" Dean asked.

"Yeah," Sam replied, getting up from his seat and turning to leave. "Hey!" Dean called after him, tossing him the keys. Sam nodded at him, then left.

"So, how'd you get into the business?" Dean asked Gordon.

The other hunter looked thoughtful, like he was lost in the memories. "First time I saw a werewolf I was barely 18," he said finally. "Home alone with my sister. I hear the window break in her room. I grab my dad's gun, run in and try to get it off her, but it was too late. So I shoot the damn thing, which of course is about as useful as snapping it with a rubber band. It rushes me, picks me up, flings me across the room, knocks me out cold. When I wake up, werewolf's gone, my sister's gone...then, try explaining that one to your family. So I left home. And then bummed around lookin' for information, how you track 'em, how you kill 'em, and I found that wolf. It was my first kill, and I'm not going to stop until all of them are dead."

"Cheers," Dean agreed, raising his glass to Gordon's.

"You know what I love about this life? It's all black and white. There's no maybe. You find the bad thing, kill it. See, most people spend their lives in shades of gray. Is that wrong? Is this right? Not us," Gordon said.

"Uh, I'm not sure Sammy would agree with you," Dean answered.

"Doesn't seem your brother's much like us," Gordon said. Dean stared at him, startled, and Gordon went on. "I'm not saying he's wrong. Just different. But you and me? We were born to do this. It's in our blood."

**~o)0(o~**

Stiles groaned upon coming back to consciousness. His clothes felt wet and sticky, plastered painfully to his skin, and his hair was matted against his forehead. His head pounded with a constant painful beat, and his whole body felt like it'd been pulled through a meat grinder and somehow miraculously survived.

He blinked, trying to focus his vision as objects blurred and danced before his eyes. He'd spent several long hours at Gordon's mercy, but he was almost positive he'd managed to keep from telling the hunter anything. He couldn't remember exactly though, it was all pretty much just a mess of pain and shouting and fear.

One thing was clear though: he had to get out of here. He had to warn the pack, he had to tell the Argents. This man was ruthless and wouldn't care whether they were innocent or not so long as they were dead in the end.

He felt the knots in the rope binding his wrists. He was the Sheriff's son and his dad had made sure he knew all of the basics, and one of those things was how to get out of bindings. Luckily, this hunter seemed to be pretty much an amateur at tying up human beings because Stiles was able to slip out of the ropes relatively easily. He groaned, rubbing at his sore wrists, then bent down to undo his legs. His whole body screamed in protest as his movements aggravated the cuts he'd accumulated from his previous 'session' with Gordon. He gritted his teeth as he felt fresh blood seep from his injuries, but tried to ignore the pain. He had to get out of here; he had no idea when the hunter would be coming back.

Then he spotted his phone. His beautiful, still not-broken phone that had been mercifully left where the hunter had carelessly thrown it when Stiles has first woken up.

The gods must've been looking down on him that day, because somehow, miraculously, he still had battery left, and a weak cell signal had managed to connect to his phone.

Stiles gasped in relief but didn't allow himself any time to rest before he started running, unsure of when Gordon would come back. As he ran, he fumbled with his phone and blindly selected the first contact on his list, hoping to whatever deity was out there that they would answer.

"Hello? Stiles?" Allison Argent asked from the other side of the call. "Hey, where are you? The pack meeting is starting. Everyone's already here."

"Thank God," Stiles gasped into his phone. "Can you...put me on speaker?"

"Are you okay?!" Allison asked instead, but he knew she was doing what he asked because the sounds of the pack suddenly became audible on his phone.

"No, but you all shut up and listen, because this is important!" Stiles demanded as he crashed through the forest. His whole body ached for him to stop and rest or maybe nap for the next 3 days, but he couldn't. He was running as fast as he could, but in the state he was in, the hunter was sure to be faster. He had to keep moving, he had to get out of here.

At least he knew where he was; there was only one part of Beacon Hills with this type of woods.

"What is it Stiles?" Derek growled through the phone. There was a hint of...was that worry in the werewolf's voice?

"There's another hunter…" Stiles gasped out. "His name's Gordon, and he's an absolute _psycho._"

"Yeah, we know," Scott said. "And there are two other hunters, brothers, here too. Sam and Dean Winchester."

"I told you about them Friday!" Stiles said indignantly, now thoroughly confused. He forced himself to get back on track. "But you guys really have to be careful...he won't stop at just killing you all, he'll _destroy_ you and everything you love, and he'll make sure it's as painful as possible."

"Wait, Stiles, where are you?" Derek asked, suddenly catching on to what Stiles was implying.

"S-somewhere in the preserve, I think…" he trailed off, glancing around nervously. He had slowed down to a slow jog as he was speaking, but now he stopped. So why could he still hear someone moving through the forest…?

"_Where_ in the preserve?" Derek was shouting at him, and yes, that was definitely worry in the werewolf's voice, worry for him.

"I don't know," Stiles replied exhaustedly, his voice trembling a little with fear and pain. He tried to start running again but his legs apparently decided that wasn't a good idea and collapsed. He fell against a tree and slid down to the ground. He was suddenly overcome with dizziness and looked down to see the cuts criss-crossing his chest were still leaking blood. A dark form stepped out of the woods in front of him. It was carrying something that looked vaguely weapon-shaped and Stiles felt his heart lurch in fear because that could only be one person…

"Stiles, keep talking! C'mon, try to find something that could tell us where you are!" Was that Scott or Derek talking? Or Lydia or Allison or Isaac? Everything was hazy now as the world blurred before him. His phone slipped from his bloodstained hand and the hunter knelt in front of him, laughing.

"You've been a naughty little boy," Gordon chuckled without humor. He spotted the phone in Stiles' lap and picked it up to examine the bloody fingerprints pressed against the metal.

"Oh, and you decided to call your little werewolf friends too, didn't you?" He mocked. Without even a second's pause, he raised his hand and punched Stiles hard enough to knock him out. Then he raised the phone to his mouth with a small smirk spreading across his face. "Y'all better hurry up and hand yourselves over, fellas. I don't think your little human friend has much time left."

There was the sound of enraged shouting on the other side of the phone, then it was cut off as Gordon dropped the phone on the ground and crushed it beneath his foot.

"You better hope they come for you," he said to the unconscious Stiles. "Or you'll be dead before the next full moon."

* * *

**A/N: I love love love the idea that the sheriff taught Stiles a lot of self-defense stuff when he was younger, so yeah, in this story there's probably going to be some BAMF!Stiles in there. :D**


	5. Chapter 5

**~Chapter Five~**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or Teen Wolf. Some lines in this chapter were taken directly from the SPN episode, so I don't own those either.**

* * *

"Stiles? Stiles!" Derek shouted frantically into the phone. When there wasn't a response, they knew that something terrible had happened to their friend. The alpha could tell just from the horrified looks on his pack's faces that they could sense what he already knew and there was going to be trouble.

Suddenly Allison yelped, "Shush!" And held her phone up for the rest of them to see. The call was still connected, and someone was speaking on the other side.

"...aughty little boy," the man was saying. "Oh, and you decided to call your little werewolf friends too, didn't you?" He mocked.

Derek didn't even bother to suppress the growl that rose in his throat at the hunter's words. The other man didn't even care that the boy he had kidnapped and tortured was _human_, not werewolf, and couldn't heal like they did. He was ready to go and rip out that man's throat. With his teeth.

"Y'all better hurry up and hand yourselves over, fellas," the hunter's voice came through suddenly, much clearer than before. "I don't think your little human friend has much time left."

The pack erupted into angry shouting and very graphic insults, but all they heard was the man's chuckle as there was a crunch, and then the call cut off.

"I have to call my dad," Allison said breathlessly. "That was the hunter who came here two weeks ago. It would never be Sam and Dean. No matter how many supernatural creatures they kill, they were never do that to a human."

Derek nodded at her and she walked down the hallway with her phone away from the noise of the arguing pack. He took a deep breath and sighed. He needed to pull himself together. He was the alpha, and if he let himself dissolve into mindless rage like he wanted to, the rest of the pack would follow suit, and who knew how much damage would befall Beacon Hills if that were to happen. If they were going to rescue Stiles, they had to do it properly.

Derek growled low in his throat and flashed his eyes, but even though it wasn't much it quickly caught the attention of the pack. They turned to him expectantly and waited for him to speak.

"We can't find Stiles if we don't focus," he said authoritatively. He glanced down the hallway at Allison, who was just getting off the phone with her father. "What did he say?" Derek asked.

"He hasn't had any recent communication with the hunter, whose name is Gordon," she answered. "But he's heard stories about him through other hunters. Apparently he's ruthless and doesn't care about the Code; he'll kill any werewolf even if they've never touched a human. He said that Sam and Dean were working with him before and that if we want to find Stiles, one of them might know where he's hiding out."

Derek nodded. "Okay, but does your dad know where they're staying?" He asked.

Allison smirked a little, waving a bright yellow post-it in the air. It had an address and room number scrawled on it hurriedly. "Already got it covered."

"Okay." Derek nodded decisively. "Erica, Lydia, and Boyd, you go to Stiles' house to see if he might've left anything behind that could help us, maybe a scent trail. The rest of you, come with me. We're going to find those hunters."

**~o)0(o~**

Sam sighed to himself as he unlocked the door to their motel room. After his brother had come back from the bar, they'd taken a ride over to the local diner to use their free wifi to see if they could find out anything about the local pack. Information that they hadn't already known was limited, but they did figure out that the pack was somehow linked to the Hales, a family that was probably all werewolves. After that, Dean had decided to go for a ride in the Impala to see the town, dropping Sam back at the motel. It was late, and they didn't have any leads, and he still didn't trust Gordon. That hunter wasn't good news. He couldn't understand how Dean and Gordon could be so single-minded in the way they hunted. It bothered him how his brother had been acting ever since their father died. He didn't believe all supernatural creatures had to die, as long as they weren't hurting anyone they wouldn't need to be killed. And it seemed to be that way with the pack of werewolves living in Beacon Hills…

He tossed his keys on the counter. He would call Ellen, he decided. She was bound to know something about the mysterious hunter. Almost everyone ended up passing through the Roadhouse at one point or another. He quickly pulled out his phone and dialled the Roadhouse's number.

"Harvelle's Roadhouse," Ellen's cheerful voice answered.

"Hey Ellen, it's Sam Winchester," he replied.

"Saaammm," she said happily, "It's good to hear from you. You boys are okay, aren't'cha?"

"Yep," he answered. "Uh, yeah, everything's fine. I've got a question."

"Yeah, shoot," she said.

"Did you ever run across a guy named Gordon Walker?"

"Yeah, I know Gordon," Ellen answered, her interest peaked.

"And?"

"Well, he's a real good hunter. Why you asking sweetie?"

"Oh, well we ran into him on a job and we're kind of working with him I guess," he answered.

"Don't do that Sam," Ellen answered immediately, suddenly filled with concern.

"Why not?" Sam asked in confusion. "I-I thought you said he was a good hunter."

"Yeah, and Hannibal Lecter's a good psychiatrist," Ellen responded sarcastically. "Look, he is dangerous to everyone and everything around him. If he's working on a job, you boys just let him handle it and move on."

"Ellen-"

"No, Sam, you just listen to what I'm telling you, okay?" She said.

"Right, okay," Sam agreed, still slightly confused. They exchanged a quick goodbye and hung up. Sam held his phone in his hands and was staring at it like it held the answer to all his problems when he suddenly realized something. Without the sound of voices filling the silence, the sound of heavy breathing coming from the corner of the room. Without hesitation he spun around quickly, raising his gun at the group of teenagers with glowing eyes staring at him.

"What? Not gonna shoot us?" One of them snarked, and another one hit him in annoyance, hissing for him to shut up.

"Why would I shoot you?" Sam sighed heavily, lowering the gun. "Unless you attack, I'm not going to be arrested for shooting a teenager without being provoked."

"We're not going to attack you," a boy with a slightly uneven jaw and wavy dark hair said. "We just want to know if you know what happened to our friend."

"Your friend?" Sam scrunched his face up in confusion. "The only werewolf we've interacted with this whole time is that omega we killed earlier, and he was already insane anyways. He might've killed someone if he got loose. But still, we haven't touched your friend, whoever that is."

"He's not a werewolf, though," an older one, the "Tall, Dark, and Handsome" type, pointed out. Sam guessed that this was the Derek Hale Chris had mentioned in one of their earlier conversations. "He's a human, and his name is Stiles Stilinski."

Sam frowned. "That spazzy kid who's the sheriff's son? Yeah, I met him before. He figured out that my brother and I weren't really FBI. He's pretty smart. Why? What happened to him?"

The teenagers glanced at each other worriedly. "We just got a call from him, and it sounded like he was hurt. Then that hunter, his name was Gordon or Gunther or something like that, came on the phone and basically said that if we didn't turn ourselves in, he would kill Stiles. We wanted to know if you knew anything about him."

Sam's eyes widened. "No...he didn't mention anything about having a human held prisoner...goddammit Ellen was right." He sighed in annoyance, then his eyes lit up. "Dean was talking with him at the bar! Maybe he got an address...it's not like Gordon could hold him in a motel, so there must be some place in the woods or around town…hold on, I'll call my brother."

The werewolves looked around the small motel room awkwardly as Sam pulled out his phone and dialled Dean's number. It went straight to voicemail.

"Pick up the fricking phone, Dean," Sam growled in annoyance, ready to redial, but at that moment the motel door swung open.

"Hey Sammy," Dean said cheerfully. "What's up? Have you found anything else on the pack?" Before Sam even had the chance to answer, Dean's face twisted into a frown, and he spun around to face the werewolves, gun out.

"Dean! Stop!" Sam shouted.

"They're werewolves, Sammy," Dean said calmly, gun still pointed at Derek's chest. Then he saw Allison standing next to Scott and frowned. "Hey, aren't you Argent's kid?"

"They haven't killed _anyone!_" Sam argued. "If anything, it's Gordon we should be hunting!"

"What are you talking about, Sam?" Dean asked. "Gordon's helping us get rid of them! And since when were you all buddy-buddy with _werewolves_?"

"You remember that kid we met Friday, Stiles? The sheriff's son?" Sam asked. Dean nodded, confused. "But what are you-"

"Gordon kidnapped him," Sam interrupted. "He was held against his will and he was fucking _tortured, _Dean. That guy's a psycho and we've got to stop him."

"But they're _werewolves, _Sammy," Dean protested. "How can you trust a word they say?"

One of the teenagers looked angry and about to interrupt with a stupid comment that would probably make Dean shoot him, so Sam said, "Dean, can we talk about this outside?"

Dean sent one last glare at the pack and followed his brother outside.

"Dean, I think we have to rethink this hunt," Sam said. "I don't think they're like other werewolves. They haven't killed anyone. And they're _teenagers, _Dean."

"Wait, so you're saying...No, man, no way. Whatever they told you 's probably a lie. I don't really care. We find 'em, we waste 'em."

"Why?" Sam asked pointedly.

"What part of 'werewolves' don't you understand, Sam? If it's supernatural, we kill it, end of story. That's our job."

"No, Dean, that's not our job," Sam was pulling out the puppy-dog eyes now, "Our job is hunting evil. And if these things aren't killing people, they're not evil!"

"Of course they're killing people, that's what they do. They're all the same, Sam. They're not human, okay? We have to exterminate every last one of them," Dean said heatedly.

Sam stared at his brother, betrayed. "You sound just like him now," he whispered, "Look, Dean, I know you're suffering, okay? I can see right through your mask. You're not handling Dad's death very well. But please, this isn't the way to deal with it. You're risking the lives of several innocent teenagers. Would you really want all those deaths on your conscience?"

His older brother sighed, rubbing his hand through his hair as he contemplated the younger Winchester's words. "Fine," he agreed reluctantly. "Where do we start?"


	6. Chapter 6

**~Chapter Six~**

**A/N: Thanks so much for all the nice reviews, favorites, and follows! I love you all, hope you enjoy this chapter ;)**

**Disclaimer: I DON'T OWN SUPERNATURAL OR TEEN WOLF. There? Does that make you happy? *sobs loudly***

* * *

Stiles felt his whole body aching in pain as he slowly returned to consciousness. Fuck, why did he have to keep doing this? What he wouldn't give for just one day of waking up normally…

"Awake again?" The hunter-Gordon, Stiles reminded himself-lounged in a corner of the dark room. Stiles had been tied back into the same position, but the knots were considerably tighter. His wrists and ankles ached in pain as the ropes bit into his skin.

"Your friends should be here soon," he continued conversationally. "And when they get here, you'll be able to watch as I brutally murder them before your eyes."

"Charming," Stiles muttered sarcastically.

The hunter walked over to him and pistol-whipped him. Goddammit, that fricking _hurt. _"Don't talk back," he snapped angrily. "Now, I'm giving you one last chance. Tell. Me. Who. Your. Alpha. Is."

"Ooohh, punctuation, soooo intimidating!" Stiles mocked. He knew he was pushing it, but his mouth couldn't seem to stop from repeating the words his brain was thinking.

"Shut up, you insolent child!" Gordon hissed. He had his knife out again and Stiles gulped nervously at the sight. "I won't repeat myself. This is your last chance before I open that nice pretty little throat of yours."

"Ahh, you sound just like my alpha, good old Richard," Stiles sighed nostalgically. He saw interest suddenly appear in the hunter's eyes and congratulated himself on his fast thinking.

"What was that?" Gordon growled.

"Well, as you said, I don't want my 'pretty little throat' opened," Stiles smirked, "Especially not with that rusty old thing." He glanced pointedly at the knife in Gordon's hands.

"You would give up your pack just to save your own skin?" Gordon laughed in disbelief. "I guess it's hard to be loyal when your life is at risk, huh? I thought it'd take more to get you to open up."

"Well, I'm a guy with his best interests at heart," Stiles replied coolly, trying to keep up his facade, but inside his heart was beating as fast as a goddamn butterfly. He really hoped this was working or else he was in for it.

A sadistic smirk spread over Gordon's face. "So, tell me about this 'Richard'," he said.

**~o)0(o~**

When the pack plus the Winchesters arrived at the Sheriff's house, all the lights were off except for the one in Stiles' room. When they were just about to open the door, Erica opened it from the inside. Boyd was standing behind her and they both looked unnaturally pale.

"Where's Lydia?" Allison demanded.

"Sh-she's upstairs," Erica answered, looking a little white-faced. Derek knew what she was going to say before she said it; the werewolves all got a little unnerved whenever Lydia used her powers, resulting in the disturbed looks on Erica and Boyd's faces. "She's found something."

Without a word, the hunters pushed past the werewolves towards the stairs. The pack hurriedly followed, worried about what the hunters might do to their friend if they got there first.

When they entered Stiles' room, it looked fairly normal. His blankets were mussed up from when he'd probably forgotten to make his bed Friday morning-or Saturday, because they didn't know when he was taken. But Lydia was sitting at his computer curiously, staring at the computer screen. It was open to Microsoft Word, but the document was blank.

"Is she okay?" Dean whispered to Sam.

His younger brother was staring at the girl curiously. He remembered seeing this behavior from an older woman on one of their previous hunts and reading something about it in his dad's journal. People who could see and hear things that others couldn't. Most often they were passed off as insane or thrown into asylums, but his father had mentioned in his journal that the things they saw or heard had something to do with the supernatural.

"She's a banshee," Sam announced.

The pack turned to him with an astonished look. "How did you know that?" Allison asked. "Even my grandfather didn't have that in his bestiary."

"Our dad had a journal where he wrote down different kinds of supernatural creatures, what they did, and how to kill them," Sam shrugged, "and banshees were in there."

Some of the werewolves looked a little disturbed by that information, but the hunters ignored it. "So, what's she doing?" Dean asked.

Sam opened his mouth to answer, but at that moment Lydia spoke. "You mean you can't see it?" She asked, her eyes not leaving the computer. They were wide with fear and horror.

"See what, Lydia?" Scott asked, trying to be gentle.

"The writing," she answered softly.

"What does it say?" Allison prompted.

"Stiles," Lydia breathed. "Oh, god, something terrible's happening…"

"Read what the words actually say," Dean demanded, and a couple of the werewolves sent a sharp glare in his direction.

"'Help me,'" Lydia recited mechanically. "'Agghh, it hurts Derek, it hurts, please, someone help me.'"

The pack and hunters exchanged looks of horror as Lydia continued to read. "'I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have lied, please stop it hurts stop-'"

"Okay, okay, that's enough!" Scott interrupted. "Does it say anything about where Gordon's holding him?"

Lydia shook her head. "No, all it says that he's in a dark room in the preserve somewhere, but he doesn't recognize anything that could tell him where he is."

"You said that Stiles goes into the preserve a lot, right?" Dean asked thoughtfully, and the werewolves nodded. "And mostly close to your house, so that means that he wouldn't actually know most parts of the preserve." He directed the last part of the question at Derek, who nodded.

"So, that means the area of the preserve around your house is eliminated," Dean reasoned. "Wherever Gordon is holding Stiles must be somewhere else. Can I use his computer?" He asked Lydia, who nodded and moved. Dean sat down and quickly typed a few words into the search engine. Whatever came up obviously frustrated him because he let out a little growl and tried again. Suddenly he grinned and moved aside so everyone else could see the computer. A picture of an old, run-down cabin appeared on the screen. Apparently it was the remains of an old hunting lodge before hunting was banned in the preserve.

"Found him," Dean smirked.

* * *

**A/N: Is hunting really banned in the preserve? I have no idea, but as I said before I am a goddess and have now magically changed the TW universe so that hunting is banned to fit my needs. MWHAHAHA. **


	7. Chapter 7

**~Chapter Seven~**

**Disclaimer: Sadly, I don't own Supernatural or Teen Wolf.**

* * *

"Gordon's probably at the lodge right now, interrogating Stiles, from what we heard," Derek said. "If we manage to sneak up on him he'll be no match for all of us."

The rest of the pack and the hunters nodded in agreement. Dean glanced over at Allison, who was checking over her arrows to make sure they were in good shape.

"So you turned into little miss Hawkeye, didn't you?" He asked fondly, sliding a clip into his gun and shoving it through his belt. "Last time I saw you, you were what, five?"

"Yeah," Allison smiled as she slung her quiver over her shoulder after making sure all the arrows were in place. "Our dads didn't like each other very much, but they got the job done in the end."

Dean laughed at her words, and Sam smiled to himself. Dean was finally acting like _himself _again, and it was good to see him drop the mask.

"You ready to go?" Scott asked him, and the younger Winchester nodded. They managed to fit the entire pack into cars via Dean's Impala, Jackson's Porsche, and Derek's Camaro and drove off towards the old hunting lodge.

**~o)0(o~**

Stiles thought that he actually did pretty well feeding the lie to the hunter, who was standing in front of him absorbing it all and looking thoughtful.

Of course, he knew it wouldn't last forever.

He was pretty impressed with himself, though. The fake pack he created was pretty believable, with an old, power-hungry alpha turning random teenagers around town. The murders, he added, were the fault of the new werewolves accidentally losing control of their shifts and going crazy.

He guessed that was where he must've messed up. Gordon had talked to Chris Argent, who had mentioned that the pack was in good hands and that every one of the new werewolves was being trained to control their shifts.

"You're lying," the older man hissed in anger, his knife flashing in the darkness as it drew a line across Stiles' chest. The teenage boy gulped in pain and fear as he stared nervously at the rage on the hunter's face. "YOU SHOULD'VE TOLD ME THE TRUTH!" Gordon shouted, spit flying from his lips as he raised the knife and plunged it down into Stiles' arm.

"I'm sorry!" The teenager shouted in a desperate last attempt, tears of pain filling his eyes. "Please stop, I shouldn't have lied, I'm sorry-"

Suddenly, Gordon's phone beeped. Stiles saw an alert flash on his phone before the hunter turned it away from his view. A smile appeared on Gordon's lips and he glanced towards the cold, unused fireplace in the corner of the room that Stiles hadn't given much thought to earlier.

"It's getting a little cold in here," the hunter said thoughtfully. "Maybe I should light a little fire for your werewolf friends when they get here. We don't want them getting sick, do we?" His large smile told Stiles he meant exactly the opposite of what he was saying. "And after that, we'll get to play again."

Stiles swallowed nervously. God, Derek, please hurry up and do your rescuing thing a little faster...please…

**~o)0(o~**

The silence in the Impala was suddenly broken when Scott jumped and swore loudly.

"What? What is it?" Allison asked him, placing a hand on his arm to calm him. Dean glanced in the review mirror to make sure something bad hadn't broken out in his backseat.

"The sheriff!" Scott yelped. "He's bound to be suspicious; whenever he's out of town, he always asks Stiles to call him every night to make sure everything's okay. And when we get Stiles back, God, how are we supposed to explain to him why his son got brutally tortured and beaten?"

"Tell him the truth," Sam answered.

"Stiles won't like that," Scott sighed. "He hasn't told his dad yet specifically so he can protect him from supernatural threats."

"Well, if his dad knows, that can also help protect _Stiles _from supernatural threats," Dean pointed out.

"Okay," Scott nodded uncertainly. A few minutes of awkward silence followed, then Scott piped up again. "Are you guys really okay with turning on one of your fellow hunters?"

There was a pause, and then Sam said, "If a werewolf was brutally murdering innocent people and holding humans captive just because they're slightly different from everyone else, would you be okay with letting them go on doing that?"

Scott didn't even have to think about it. "Of course not!"

"Exactly," Sam nodded. "That's how we feel."

Dean stepped on the brakes and parked the car. "The Impala's engine is pretty loud, and we don't want Gordon to know we're coming," he explained.

Scott lifted his nose into the air as the two other cars approached and parked behind Dean's. "I smell something," he said. "Is that...silver? Why would there be silver here? That doesn't hurt werewolves."

"Yes it does," Dean argued. "Every werewolf we've killed has been with a silver bullet through the heart."

"My dad kills with wolfsbane bullets or wolfsbane arrows," Allison protested. "He says silver doesn't work unless at close range."

"Different things work better on different types of werewolves," Derek said, coming up to their small group. "Come on, let's get moving. Who knows what could be happening to Stiles now."

"Sounds like you actually care," Scott teased.

"Shut up," Derek growled at the beta, who just grinned knowingly to himself. Despite the seriousness of the situation, the rest of the teenagers couldn't help but smile a little at their alpha's denial of liking their human pack member.

The old hunting lodge came into view, and suddenly all the werewolves sniffed, their noses in the air. Even the hunters frowned a little. "Is that...smoke?" Allison asked curiously.

"It smells strange," Erica added.

"Whatever," Derek said determinedly. "It's just some smoke. All that matters now is saving Stiles."

The pack let out growls of affirmation and followed their alpha into the lodge. It only had one floor, so they guessed they weren't exactly being subtle as they banged open doors to check if Stiles or Gordon were hiding behind one of them. Finally they came to the last door they hadn't yet opened. They all glanced at each other, then the werewolves elongated their claws, Allison nocked an arrow, and Dean and Sam cocked their guns. Derek nodded to the brothers, then Dean kicked in the door and they piled into the room.

It was so clogged with smoke it was almost impossible to see, but they could make out the form of Stiles slumped in a chair and Gordon standing next to him, smirking as he twirled his knife around.

"Sam, Dean, so nice of you to join the party," he said conversationally. "You ready to kill some werewolves?"

Suddenly Isaac coughed, developing a strange look on his face. "What is that-"

And then, like puppets whose strings had been cut, all the werewolves dropped to the floor, coughing and holding their throats like they couldn't breathe.

Stiles lifted his head a little, seeming like he had retained a little consciousness. "No…" he coughed out despairingly. Allison's eyes hardened at the sight of her friend looking so helpless, and Lydia wished she had a power that would enable her to kill someone on sight, because she wanted to do that to Gordon so badly right now…

"Shut up, you little bitch," Gordon spat at Stiles. He looked down at the werewolves writhing on the floor, then back at Sam, Dean, Allison, and Lydia. "It's time for the real fun to begin."

* * *

**A/N: I'm guessing this story will be done in a couple more chapters. But until then, please read, follow, favorite, or review! :)**


	8. Chapter 8

**~Chapter Eight~**

**Disclaimer: I tried stealing the characters of Teen Wolf and Supernatural, but sadly, I was caught. So no, I don't own Supernatural or Teen Wolf**

* * *

Derek was filled with a strange sort of euphoria as he bounded into the room with the rest of his pack. They were going to find Stiles; they were going to save him. He still couldn't forget the pain in the younger boy's voice during his desperate call for help. After that event, he realized that he never wanted to hear that sort of pain and fear in Stiles' voice ever again. A fierce sort of protective feeling raced through him at that moment and took its place in his heart; and that was when the alpha realized that the scrawny, sarcastic, annoying human boy was pack.

And he would _never _abandon his pack.

But then they were in the room with Stiles and Gordon and a strange feeling overcame him, like all his muscles were turning to jelly and he could barely breathe. What the hell was in that smoke…?

Then he was on the ground, surrounded by his pack, with only Allison and Lydia left standing as the wolfsbane in the smoke didn't affect them. And that hunter, goddamn that hunter, was speaking again, a smug smirk on his face as he rested a hand casually on Stiles' shoulder, who...was he looking at him?! At first, Derek thought he was just imagining it, but then when his vision managed to briefly focus again, and he saw those cinnamon brown eyes looking right at him, filled with pain, fear, and relief.

The wolfsbane was tearing at his defenses, making him ache in pain and want to just give up and let it take him over, but then he remembered the look on Stiles' face.

And he made his desicion.

**~o)0(o~**

Stiles ached all over. It had taken all his willpower not to pass out after Gordon had started building his fire, but he'd managed to stay awake. And now he wished he hadn't. He was about to see his pack get brutally murdered and it was all his fucking fault. He took a deep breath. He couldn't think about that right now. Instead, he had to concentrate on the ropes around his wrists. After the first escape, Gordon had used a more complicated knot, but Stiles' dad had made sure he was prepared for anything. Hell, he could shoot a moving figure from a kilometer away half-asleep.

He guessed he would probably have to put those skills to use right about now.

As he worked the ropes, clumsily tieing and re-tieing so his fingers could slip out, he listened to the hunters' conversation. The smoke in the room made it hard to see and more importantly, breathe, but he could still make out the blurry forms of the figures in the room. The two hunters he'd met in his dad's office and then researched, Sam and Dean, were holding guns and pointing them at the hunter by his side (what were they doing here? Weren't they supposed to be on Gordon's side? He was so confused). Allison's bow was drawn and Lydia was giving Gordon a glare that could melt steel. The werewolves were still lying on the floor, softly panting as the poison temporarily took control of their systems. Most of them were hunched over, eyes tightly shut, but Derek...Derek was staring at him. Stiles gasped a little at the sight of his alpha's red eyes, then gave a little smirk. If this hunter thought he could mess with the Hale pack, he was in deep trouble.

"Hey, Gordon," Dean said. "I thought this was about hunting werewolves. You're torturing a human."

The other hunter laughed coldly. "This little bitch? He's about as good as the rest of them."

"Hey...I take offense...to that," Stiles gasped out indignantly. Seriously? Even when he was severely injured and about to be killed, his mouth still couldn't control itself. And now he had drawn attention to himself. He briefly stopped messing with the knots on his restraints and gave them a half-hearted smile. "I'm still kicking...didn't you notice?"

"With a mouth like that you'd think I was doing the world a favor killing him off," Gordon muttered. He was holding the knife in his hand again. "Well, the good thing is you're just in time. This little bastard just spent half an hour feeding me lies. Wanna help me cut his fingers off before we get started on those werewolves?" He traced a thin line down Stiles' bloodstained arm. It didn't hurt as much as the earlier ones, but it still stung. The Winchesters tensed, and there were growls from the werewolves on the floor, but they couldn't make a move with Gordon and that knife so close to Stiles.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, hey, let's all just chill out, huh?" Dean tried, making a calming motion with his hand.

"I'm completely chill," Gordon answered with a frown.

"Gordon, put the knife down," Sam said warningly, taking a step towards the hunter. Dean stopped him with a hand on his chest. With all their focus on the dark-skinned hunter, none of them noticed Stiles slipping a hand out of the ropes, or Derek slowly dragging himself to a sitting position on the floor.

"Sounds like it's Sam here who needs to chill," Gordon countered tauntingly.

"Just step away from him," the younger Winchester said.

"You're right," Gordon said. "This bastard won't be of any use to us anymore." He pulled out a larger knife. "Say goodbye, werewolf bitch."

"Gordon, I'm letting him go," Sam said, taking a step towards Stiles, who was staring at the knife with a strange fascination.

Gordon pointed the knife at Sam's chest. "You're not doing a damn thing."

"Hey, hey Gordon, let's talk about this," Dean tried. "I know about that whole 'no shades of grey' thing, but this is different. These people don't deserve to die like the werewolf that killed your sister, so-"

"Killed my sister?" Gordon interrupted, laughing. "That filthy werewolf didn't kill my sister. It turned her. It made her one of them. So I hunted her down, and I killed her myself."

The others in the room exchanged looks of horror, and Allison asked disbelievingly, "You killed your _sister?_"

"It wasn't human anymore. I didn't blink. I put that bitch down like a fucking dog," Gordon said. "You would do the same."

"So you knew all along, then?" Lydia spoke up. "You knew all along that we weren't killing people, and you didn't care."

"Care about what? A pack of werewolves suddenly acting nice? Taking a little time off ripping the hearts out of innocent people? And we're supposed to buy that? Trust me. That doesn't change who they are," Gordon spat out.

"That boy you have there is innocent," Dean argued. "And you're about to kill him! Hunting is about _protecting _people, not _murdering _them!"

Gordon opened his mouth to argue, but at that moment Derek staggered up from the floor. His red alpha eyes were glowing, his fangs extended and his claws out, sharp as daggers. He let out a low growl and rushed towards Gordon, who dodged the weakened werewolf with ease and cut a long slash across Derek's arm with his knife.

"See? They're all the same! Evil. Bloodthirsty," Gordon said triumphantly, turning for a second round as Derek tried to rush him again. Taking advantage of the distraction, Stiles tried to bend down to untie his legs, then cried out in pain as the movement stretched his cuts.

Lydia's eyes widened at the sight, and she nimbly darted past the struggling werewolf and hunter to Stiles. She quickly untied the ropes around his ankles and caught his weight as he slumped forwards onto her.

"Ugh, you're bleeding all over my _white _cardigan!" She complained jokingly as she struggled to help him to his feet, attempting to lighten the mood. Allison quickly returned her arrow to its quiver and slung her bow across her back, then ran to help support him. Stiles let out a weak chuckle, but quickly returned to seriousness. He held out a hand towards the Winchesters.

"Can I borrow...your gun?" He asked Dean.

"Kid, you're in no shape to shoot at anything right now," the older Winchester argued, catching onto what Stiles meant. "You're more likely to miss and hit your little werewolf friend instead." Sam, Lydia, and Allison nodded in agreement. Of course, none of them had ever seen Stiles handle a gun (the last time had probably been around his mom died, and he hadn't told even Scott about his little talent).

"Trust me," he said earnestly. "Please." If he was going to die, he at least wanted to go out with a heroic bang (literally) like one of the pack would.

Dean reluctantly handed the gun to Stiles. Leaning heavily on Allison and Lydia, he accepted it and turned to aim. Despite his vision splitting everything in threes, his hand was steady as he aimed at the struggling tangle of werewolf and hunter on the ground. Surprisingly, they'd both landed a few good cuts and were trying to go for the killing blow as they attempted to grab the other's throat.

Stiles hadn't shot at anything in a long time, but he remembered his dad's lessons clearly in his mind. He saw Gordon's foot hooked around Derek's back, bouncing up and down with their movements. With only a second's hesitation, he squeezed the trigger.

"AGGHHH!" Gordon's scream of pain was the last straw and Stiles fainted. Allison and Lydia struggled to support his dead weight, but Sam solved that problem by easily lifting the teenager into his arms. "Meet you at the hospital," he told his brother, "I'm taking the Impala."

With a nod, Dean tossed Sam the keys. "I'll get the rest of them out of here."

Derek's eyes flashed again as he stood over Gordon's hunched body. Dean reached an arm out towards the werewolf cautiously. "Hey, man, we kinda need you to humanize again," he said carefully. "We need your help getting the pack out of here."

Derek nodded in affirmation and staggered over towards his fallen pack members. He slung Erica and Isaac over his shoulders, then left the room. Allison and Lydia managed to support Boyd by working together and they stumbled out of the room, leaving just Scott on the floor.

"What're you doing, man?" Gordon's voice came from behind the older Winchester. He was half-sitting, half-lying on the floor, hands wrapped around his wounded foot. "Why're you doing this all for some werewolves? We're on the same side here."

"I don't think so, you sadistic bastard," Dean growled. He grabbed the chair Stiles had been tied to and began wrapping the ropes around the injured hunter. Clearly he was better at it than Gordon because his knots were a lot more complex.

"You're not like your brother. You're a killer. Like me," Gordon said, then let out a cry of pain as Dean purposely stepped on his injured foot.

"You know, I might be like you, and I might not. But you're the one tied up right now," Dean mocked, then grabbed Scott and left the room.

* * *

**A/N: The next chapter will probably be the last, but it was great writing this and reading all your reviews and seeing all the favorites and follows! Thank you so much for all of that! :) :)**


	9. Chapter 9

**~Chapter Nine~**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or Teen Wolf.**

~_a few hours later~_

The pack sat in the hard plastic chairs in the hospital waiting room, fully recovered from their brief exposure to the wolfsbane smoke. Sam and Dean sat next to them, quietly conversing.

Finally, Mrs. McCall came up to them and smiled at their eager faces.

"He's going to live," she announced, and the waiting room filled with the teenagers' enthusiastic cheers. A couple passing nurses and doctors smiled a little at their antics before Mrs. McCall shushed them. "We've notified his father and he said that you can visit Stiles, but try not to put too much pressure on him all at once, okay? Two at a time."

Immediately, the pack looked to Derek, who shook his head a little. "I'll go last," he said. Scott eagerly bounced to his feet, and, holding Allison's hand, followed his mother in the direction of Stiles' room. The rest of the pack resumed muttering to themselves, or, in Lydia's case, worrying at her nails and snapping at Jackson.

"Hey man, you okay?" Dean asked Derek, who was sitting next to him staring at his hands. "I thought you'd be the first one in there."

"Why do you care?" Derek snapped at him. Dean raised his hands in surrender, backing off. "Sorry, it just looked like you cared for him a lot."

"I do, but...it's my fault he's in this situation in the first place, and I can't face him after all that," Derek sighed.

Dean scoffed. "Dude, have you seen that kid? No-one makes him do _anything_."

Derek looked like he was considering that, and then he nodded slightly in agreement. "Thank you for helping us get him back," he said.

Dean shrugged with a small smile. "It's what we do." He took a piece of crumpled paper out of the pocket of his jacket and tore off the edge, hurriedly scribbling down a phone number. "There. You can call us if you need anything."

Derek nodded and accepted the paper. In all honesty he'd been very reluctant to work with hunters at first, his past experiences with them being less than pleasurable. But the Winchesters definitely had managed to earn his respect especially after going after a fellow hunter without hesitation.

"I know Stiles will definitely want to keep in touch," he joked.

That earned a laugh from Dean and Sam. "We'll go say goodbye to him, then," Sam said. "See you around, Derek." They exchanged a short (and slightly uncomfortable) hug, then Dean went up to him and gave him a very manly bro-hug before they walked down the hall in the direction of Stiles' room, stopping by the nurses' station to ask for directions.

"Man, I wish we never took this job," Dean sighed as they walked towards Stiles' room. "It's jacked everything up."

"What do you mean?" Sam asked.

"Think about all the hunts we've gone on, our whole lives, Sammy," Dean said.

"Okay?" Sam nodded, a little confused.

"What if we killed things that didn't deserve killing? You know? I mean, the way Dad raised us…" Dean trailed off meaningfully.

"Dean, after what happened to Mom, Dad did the best he could."

"I know he did. But the man wasn't perfect. And the way he raised us, to hate those things; and man, I hate 'em. I do. When I killed that wolf in the woods I didn't even think about it; hell, I even enjoyed it," Dean said.

"Honestly, I'm glad," Sam said. "If we weren't there, Gordon would've slaughtered that entire pack of innocent teenagers and then some. And instead of thinking about all the things we've done in the past, we should try to think about all the things we could prevent from happening in the future."

"Geez, Sammy, you sound all philosophical and shit," Dean tried to joke.

Sam caught his brother's attempt to lighten the mood and change the subject, and he went along with it. They walked in silence for a few more minutes, checking the room numbers for Stiles'. When they found his room, the door was open and they could hear Scott and Allison talking eagerly and Stiles' weak voice responding. Dean knocked on the door frame, catching the attention of all three teenagers.

"Mind if we say a quick goodbye?" The hunter asked. "We're heading out."

Scott and Allison glanced to Stiles to get his OK, then walked out of the room. Scott shook both the hunters' hands and said a quick goodbye, and Allison gave both of them short hugs, beaming at them. "Stay in touch," she ordered firmly, then she and Scott walked back down the hallway hand-in-hand.

"Hey, kid," Dean said as they walked into Stiles' room and took seats in the uncomfortable hospital chairs Scott and Allison had previously been occupying.

"Hey," Stiles said back. Even though his body posture screamed that he was exhausted, the sparkle in his cinnamon-brown eyes was still there. "Thanks for helping get me out of there."

"It was mostly you and Derek," Sam put in. "You were pretty impressive back there for someone who'd lost a pint of blood. If you ever wanted to join the hunting business, you'd fit the bill."

"I think I'll stick to Beacon Hills for now, but thanks," Stiles said, giving them a smile.

"If you ever run into trouble, just call," Dean told him. "Derek has our number." He couldn't explain it, but he felt a fiercely protective feeling for this kid he'd just met rise up in his chest.

"Thanks," Stiles said. "If I fall down the stairs, you're on speed dial."

Sam chuckled. "See you around, kiddo," he said, carefully wrapping his arms around Stiles and making sure he didn't jostle any of the cuts. Stiles gingerly embraced him, suppressing a wince. Dean followed suit. Just as the brothers were about to leave, Stiles grabbed Sam's arm. "Just be careful out there, okay?" He said seriously. The two nodded, and with one last glance at Stiles, walked out.

**~o)0(o~**

Stiles let out a wide yawn. He was completely, utterly exhausted. He'd been up all night except for when he'd been unconscious while the doctors wrapped his cuts and injuries, and he'd spent a major part of the day recieving visitors and having nurses come in for regular check-ups. Mrs. McCall had informed him that his dad would be arriving late the next morning, and he felt a little guilty his dad was missing whatever important conference he'd been at for Stiles, but the guilt didn't last for long because he was excited about seeing his dad again.

Still, he didn't want to go to sleep yet. One person still hadn't visited him, and that was Derek. After the werewolf had fought off wolfsbane poisoning and tackled an armed, bloodthirsty hunter for him, Stiles figured that he'd at least pop in to say hello. But there hadn't been a word out of Derek all day, and Stiles was starting to get worried.

He yawned again, shifting a little to get more comfortable. He hissed a little when his cuts protested painfully. His eyes could barely stay open. Maybe Derek's visit would have to wait…

Just before he was about to allow his eyes to close, he caught sight of a dark shadow standing in the doorway.

"Derek?" He mumbled.

The shadow shifted a little, confirming Stiles' suspicion. "What're you doing?" He asked sleepily.

Derek came closer and sat down next to Stiles' bed. A warmth encircled Stiles' left hand as Derek took it in his own. "I wanted to come check on you before I had to leave," he said.

"Thanks," Stiles said, trying to keep his eyes open. Derek chuckled a little at the human's struggle.

Stiles' jaw dropped. "Was that a smile?! Did I just see Derek Hale smile? Amazing!"

Derek laughed openly, then his face quickly grew serious again. "I just wanted to do one thing before your dad gets here and I can't visit anymore." He leaned down, cupping Stiles' face with his free hand and gently pressing his lips against the younger boy's. Stiles let out a soft gasp of surprise-this was the last thing he was expecting-but then as he felt Derek pulling away he returned the kiss, pressing against Derek's lips hungrily.

"You have no idea how long I've been wanting to do that," the werewolf breathed as they broke apart reluctantly.

"Same," Stiles returned, sleepiness all but forgotten. They sat together in the dark hospital room, holding each other as they washed away the memories of their painful weekend and replaced them with new ones.

**~o)0(o~**

Gordon tried to reach for the discarded knife on the ground once again, but failed. He angrily pulled against his bonds, but they were tied too tightly and expertly. Goddamn those Winchesters and those werewolves and especially that idiotic human bastard! He sat back against the chair, chest heaving in pants as he silently seethed.

He was going to get free, and he was going to kill them all.

Every. Single. One.

**FIN**

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**A/N: Okay, I know the dramatic ending just screams "SEQUEL!" but I doubt that's going to happen because I can't think of any interesting ideas for a sequel. Onnnn the other hand, I'm working on another SPN/TW fic but it wouldn't have anything to do with this one, just because the timelines and all that shit wouldn't work out. But I also have an idea for an Ereri fic, and what with that and school being a bitch, I can't make any promises, ****sooo...don't get your hopes up, to say the least. **

**Thank you all for your support throughout the writing of this ****fic! Please read, review, favorite, follow (well not really anymore cuz the story's over) and...yeah. Hope y'all enjoyed &amp; will come back for more. ;)**


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